Unrefined Worship, Love, and Motherhood

"But a certain Samaritan, as he traveled along, came down to where he was; and when he saw him, he was moved with pity and sympathy [for him], And went to him and dressed his wounds, pouring on [them] oil and wine. Then he set him on his own beast and brought him to an inn and took care of him." Luke 10:33-34

If we were on a coffee date, I'd probably be early because I'm getting my first pedicure in I'm-not-even-sure-how-long, tomorrow and will try and squeeze in some reading time.

If we were on a coffee date, I would have texted you what your coffee order is so it'd be ready for you when you got here. And then I'd add it to the "Organization" line of your contact in my phone. Just in the case of an emergency :)

If we were on a coffee date, I'd ask you how your Easter was! And if you celebrate Jesus or something else for the day.

If we were on a coffee date, I'd probably tell you I've recently started a recovery group at my church and I'm not even sure yet why. I've always been pretty open about brokenness in my life. Hence, this very public place. And I decided a decade or so ago that I wasn't going to be the girl that only talks or writes about things after I found victory. I was going to write and talk about the pain of the process. Because that's we tend to fear the most.

If we were on a coffee date, I'd probably go right for the deep stuff (because small talk gives me anxiety) and ask if you've ever done anything like recovery.

If we were on a coffee date, I'd tell you about my friend (well, we've met twice but I'm going to call her my friend) Hosanna Poetry. She does spoken word, and she started out at Celebrate Recovery. She's expanded her repertoire now, but I've yet to hear a word that hasn't made me cry. Bernal Heights slays me. And makes me want to redeem every place that's broken me.

If we were on a coffee date, I'd ask if you want another cup, because I have a feeling we'll be here a while ;)

There's a pain that comes with miscarriage that is truly unexplainable to anyone who hasn't experienced it. And even to women who have, there are rarely words, just nods of understanding and tears of familiarity.

Tyson and I had the privilege of sharing our story with our church recently and I think we were both surprised at how much we still felt. A friend and co-worker put together the video and did an INCREDIBLE job showing the redemption we have in our two babes. Seriously, I bought him a "thank you" beer because no one has told our story the beautiful way he did.

After I got off stage the second service, I had this convo with my BFF who was watching from Cali:

😭😭

It's a rough tension to know something is turning out for good, when you would do anything to trade the good for those babies. But if I learned anything through the pain it's this:

Don't be afraid to be honest and feel it all.

The overwhelming heaviness in the every day tasks.The insatiable ache that sits in your stomach every single morning. The tears that come at untimely and embarrassing moments. The anger and doubt towards a sovereign and faithful God. #Hecanhandleit

But, don't reject the snippets of joy either. They will weave in and around your world as unpredictably as the sorrow. Don't push it away. Embrace it. They are your evidences of grace. They will be your life-lines through this terribly dark tunnel.

There is another side. It doesn't feel that way now, but there is. Hold on, hunker down, and ask God to show Himself.

Nothing is wasted. Ever.

"Though he slay me, I will hope in Him, yet I will argue my ways to his face. This will be my salvation, that the godless shall not come before him." Job 13:15

I love this.

Job points out, God sees and I'm confused as to the WHY behind all of this, yet my hope is that I CAN APPROACH HIM about it because I know He loves me and I love Him.

If you are a follower of Jesus, have entrusted and surrendered your life to Him, you can approach Him BOLDLY, as a royal daughter or son to a King. You have dibs. You are ushered right up to His presence.

And you can talk to Him. About everything. He is not afraid of your anger, your hurt, your longings or desires. He's not intimidated by your questions or doubt.

If we were on a coffee date, I'd confess I'm a lot more afraid of what people think of me, than I'd like to admit. I think about how you'll respond or react. I don't like talking about possibly offensive things or touchy subjects, not because I don't feel passionately about them, but because I don't want to hurt your feelings. But we live in a world where it feels like everything could be taken as demeaning, attacking, offending or rebelling.

If we were on a coffee date, I'd ask if you felt that too. The shift. The slow groan.

If we were on a coffee date, we'd probably go up and down and all around rabbit trails from that single thought. Perhaps for hours. My love language is crying so if you cry, or get me to cry, we'll probably be BFF's.

I have a fear that one day my daughters might come to despise the church, without ever really knowing or discovering for themselves what it stands for.

I've seen my fair share of pastors' kids or kids with any connection to the Church, turn their back on it all because of any number of reasons. Some, because of all the things it took away from them--recitals, dad at their ball games, family dinners, vacations, Sunday morning doughnut runs. Others, because of the chaos it comes with--fishbowl lifestyle, open home, early mornings and late nights.

I know some parents completely missed the signs; the warnings and cries for attention or help from their children. But some really, really tried. Like really.

That's what terrifies me. I'm afraid I'll try my hardest to be balanced and still miss the mark.

So I started a journal.

For them. I plan to give it to them when they graduate, but maybe before will be best. Or later. I have no idea yet. Still feeling it out.

Or maybe it's first of dozens that I'll write in, pray over, cry through and laugh about.

It's just one more attempt to go out of my way to let them know, to let you know, my sweet girls, why we get up early and stay up late, why we spend most every Christmas and Easter in the walls of a Church.

This is why you know your way around the sanctuary and church halls and where every bathroom and trash can are. This is why everyone you waddle past knows your names and people who were once total strangers are now your papas and grammies. Women who could never conceive, find joy and satisfaction in seeing you grow up. People who've only had suffering in life, have been comforted by your smiles, your countenance, your comfort.

But even if none of that existed, this is why we do this beautiful thing called "Church":

Because Jesus loves us.

He saved us.

We, me and Dad, we shouldn't be here.

He wasn't planned.

I was supposed to be a sexual abuse statistic.

We are not supposed to be here, in this place, physically, emotionally, spiritually.

We made some bad decisions.

Destructive decisions.

Petty, self-righteous, and sinful decisions.

AND GOD'S GRACE WAS STILL SUFFICIENT.

Trust me, that's some crazy good news.

We sing because we have to. We have to tell the world about this magnificent grace and love. We have to show you that it's the most real thing you'll ever experience. This is why we sing, and dance and act like crazy people on and off the stage.

Grace, love, peace.

Redemption, restoration.

It's all because of Jesus.

And trusting Him with our family is one of the toughest yet easiest decisions we've made yet.

- - - - - - - - - -

PS. Our family worships and serves at Shoreline Churchin Austin,TX. If you're local we'd love you to join us! And tell us when you're here. Obvs :)

If we were on a coffee date, we'd probably be at my house because I can't drink milk lattes anymore. #whole30remember? Although, my bff just told me about cashew milk. CASHEW MILK HAS SAVED MY COFFEE. As of this morning. With cinnamon and coconut syrup. I admit, it's definitely a grey area but I'm cool with that.

If we were on a coffee date, I'd tell you I'm watching this show called Good Girls Revolt. Have you heard of it? It defienitely sparks up the feminist in me, but it's doing a brilliant job making me not feel predicting emotions.

If we were on a coffee date, I'd ask what your favorite show is right now...or any show you're watching. This is Us? The Good Wife? Are you a Shondaland junkie like me? Ok, minus the murder one. It lost me on season 2.

If we were on a coffee date, I'd tell you God's been doing some weirdly beautiful stuff in my heart lately. 2016 is what I'm calling my year of disillusionment. And this is my year of acknowledgment. That's not my word for the year but it probably should be. Now that we're halfway through January.

If we were on a coffee date, I'd ask what I can pray for you about. It's cheesy-Christian I know. But sometimes cheesy Christian is just truth. Let's called it Feta-Christian. Sounds more sophisticated.

"I, _______________, solemnly swear to not judge but only encourage my co-readers who love the idea of finishing dozens of books more than the actual act of reading."

Ok, now that we got that out of the way, W E L C O M E!

This is where we start a book and only possibly finish it, because starting is better than never-starting. Wish that could have been a little catchier, but you get it.

I like reading books. I'm just not a fast reader and I'm a mom. With a full time job. I don't get to sit and read for fun in this season but in the seconds I do get to finish a dog-eared page, I remember how much I love the act of learning through written words.

So here it goes. One book at a time. On my Facebook page, I'll write about things that strike me and I'd love to hear if you're reading the same book or another that's rocking your world.

If we were on a coffee date, I'd be drinking a triple espresso over ice in a grande cup with coconut milk. Because I'm a mother. And three shots is barely enough to cover these days.

If we were on a coffee date, I'd ask how your Christmas was. Did you see family? What'd you do, what are you traditions, anything crazy or yummy?

If we were on a coffee date, there'd be a scone on the table because it's the last few days before Ty and I do Whole 30. There I said it. I committed it to this weird online world. My bff did it with her husband and she said they felt amazing! So we're in. #bleh

If we were on a coffee date, I'd ask if you'd ever done anything like Whole 30 before. We both have autoimmune diseases and we're so sick of taking medication. Not in the "hippie crunchy we hate western medicine and will only drink oil" sort of way though. More like the, "our kids have our blood and genes and if they have any trace of these diseases we'd like to set them up for success with healthy habits" sort of way. We'll see how it goes. It's just 30 days. What's the worst that could happen? #sayseveryonebeforetheygetthebug

If we were on a coffee date, I'd tell you I ordered these RX Barsbecause they're amazing and will be my lifeline during the 30 days.

If we were on a coffee date, I'd ask what's got you excited these days. What's the hope you've grabbed onto in the midst of the madness? #didisaythatoutloud

If we were on a coffee date, I'd ask what your New Year Resolution is. Or if you even do those. Or what you do instead. We tried them, but then we found that picking and praying over a "word" for the year was much more fulfilling. It's like a focus point that you can easily check in on throughout the year. I used to be more of a checklist girl, but these days I feel like I can't keep up with the basic tasks of human life, let alone an additional pressure of meeting goals and benchmarks. Maybe I will again someday. Just not today.

We pray your day is filled with joy and love and peace. Today, we're remembering the gift that Jesus gave to us, by breaking God's silence, coming humbly on a mission no one else could accomplish, and seeing it through to the end so we could be restored.

We pray our family has been an encouragement to yours as we seek to let the real be real, tough times be tough times, and the joyous ones be even more radiant. We will fail at this many times over, but we're thankful Jesus gives us the grace for that too.

"And over all these virtues put on love, which is the bond of perfect unity. Let the peace of Christ rule in your hearts, for to this you were called as members of one body. And be thankful." Colossians 3:14-15

Here's some free Christmas music for your day :)

In high school I told God I'd throw out my long list of "Future Husband Needs" if he'd give me just 3 things.

A man who loved (or at least appreciated) music.

Because, obvs.

A man who was born to lead strong.

Because, well, we all know me.

A man with unmatched compassion.

Because, I come with a lot of overstuffed baggage.

On the original list I had hair color, eye color, freckle frequency, jobs, dreams, aspirations, height and anything else you could think of to make finding a spouse nearly impossible. And every guy I dated, post-list-trim, was a variation of these three, but none got all of them. I was honestly beginning to think he didn't exist.

And then I met Tyson.

But the nugget version is: the first time I actually got to know Tyson, it scared me. It scared me because he was what I'd begun giving up hope actually existed.

I'll never forget the day my mom came home from grocery shopping. I'd just broken up with a guy weeks earlier and was coming out of the funk of heartbreak. As we were unloading the groceries from the trunk of my hand-me-down '83 tan Volvo, she commented on the love song that was playing when she got in.

"Who's that song about?" She asked. But the "Mom Ask," like she already knows the answer..."What? What song?" I replied, honestly having no idea what she was talking about. "The song in your car. It's about a girl discovering that the one for her has been there all along.""Oh gosh mom. It's just a song." I probably threw some attitude over the giant wall I'd been building.

"Well," she said as I followed her up the white steps of our big yellow farm house, "maybe it's telling you something." We set our handful of groceries down and she looked me dead in the eyes with that look only Mamas can give.

"I know you. And this is you. You're finally yourself again."

I knew what she was alluding to. I didn't want to, but I did.

Tyson was all three of my non-negotiables I'd been negotiating on.

I'd spent so much time conceding to the fact that my dreams were too high and my needs too deep. I fell in love a couple times, with good men who seemed to fit a version of the mold.

I'd been living in a slowly growing conflict between love and life. Battling between the pressure of other's expectations and the still small voice God has placed in my heart.

For a while, I couldn't tell a difference between the two.

But when I was with Tyson, it was like my heart was at rest. There was no angst with him. No questions, no insecurity. I was me.

That day was a turning point for me. #tysonshouldsendmymommoreflowers

I didn't even realize the conflict had affected the fabric of me until she'd pointed it out.

Isn't that crazy? Our biggest life decisions often get made in the seclusion of our own minds.

That can't be healthy for us.

"Is not wisdom found among the aged? Does not long life bring understanding?" Job 12:12

"If any of you lacks wisdom, you should ask God, who gives generously to all without finding fault, and it will be given to you." James 1:5

"Where there is no counsel, plans fail; but in a multitude of counselors they are established." Proverbs 15:22

So Dear Single / Dating Friends, ask for insight into your love life and make sure the one you choose lets you be you. You won't regret it.

Dear Mom & Dad, thanks for being bold and inserting your heart and love in ways I could hear them.

Dear Mentors, thank you for speaking into our marriage and cheering us on into these 8 years.

Dear Tyson, thanks for being everything I needed. Thanks for being relentless in your love for me. Thank you for not completing me as a half to a half, but rather, doubling our potency by powering up. Thank you for leading me, even when you feel like it's useless. Thank you for being patient and compassionate with me always.

With you, I'm me.

Ps. Fun fact, Tyson also met the pre-trimmed list. Funny how God works like that sometimes.

There is something new around the corner. Something's about to burst open in this world. The rumble beneath the earth is the sound of evil scrambling. Fighting harder to stay prevalent, relevant.

But it will not prevail.

We have a promise, from One who has yet to break a single promise, that even the fiery gates of hell itself cannot eliminate.

"This is the rock on which I (Jesus) will put together my church, a church so expansive with energy that not even the gates of hell will be able to keep it out.

And that’s not all. You will have complete and free access to God’s kingdom, keys to open any and every door: no more barriers between heaven and earth, earth and heaven. A yes on earth is yes in heaven. A no on earth is no in heaven."

(Matthew 16:18-19 MSG)

Another translation says,

"I (Jesus) will build My church, and the gates of Hades (the powers of the infernal region) shall not overpower it [or be strong to its detriment or hold out against it].

I will give you the keys of the kingdom of heaven; and whatever you bind (declare to be improper and unlawful) on earth must be what is already bound in heaven; and whatever you loose (declare lawful) on earth must be what is already loosed in heaven."

(Matthew 16:18-19 AMP)

Meaning, there is nothing that will keep the movement of the Spirit, through the vehicle of the Church, from churning faster and faster and faster.

Restoration is God's plan. Redemption. Salvation will be had for the earth and those who dwell in it.

Something is coming.

Something is awakening.

The ground is breaking and light is bursting forth, even brighter today than it was yesterday.

Look for it and I promise, you will find it.

*I originally wrote this post, December 2014. Felt like it might timely for someone today.

Marriage, kids, ministry, family. This has been an interesting year for usMr Mo. I'm not even sure what emotion I'm feeling from it yet.

At the beginning of the year, we told each other our words for the year. Mine was nourish. I guess I had this idea that it was going to be my year to shuffle around in the garden of our home, family, marriage, ministry. I had this idea that you'd come home from work and I'd have a healthy-dinner-that-I-meal-planned ready. Laundry would be folded, our babes babbling and coloring at the table and my heart refreshed.

An herb garden. Yes. I thought it was my year for the herb garden. Beautiful, delicate, fragrant and useful.

But it isn't, is it? ;)

Instead, the work we've put in this year feels more like hand plowing an entire forest of freaking evergreens.

In contrast to my herb garden ideologies, it feels like we've spent the better part of the last 9 months breaking up ancient dirt, dragging in the water supply, and planting the seeds to a national forest, row by row. But maybe that's because we are.

It's our own faults really. Remember when we told God we were ready for anything? We wanted to do whatever He had for us to do. We wanted to give our lives to His Church. We wanted to raise world changers. We wanted to influence for truth and grace and mercy and love.

I'll never forget that moment on our wedding day, when we read off our hand written vows. I was surprised at how similar they were. Not in length, because well, I got kind of carried away. #amirachelgreen

But the tone. It was the tone that, now looking back, screamed innocence and naivety in love and faith.

I wonder how many married couples leaned in to the other and smirked, nudged or whispered something to the effect of, "Aww, they have no idea what's coming for them."

We were young and zealous. Full of faith and fire and way too much take out. It's humorous to us now, reminiscing on the journey we've taken together so far. But to be honest, I've had the most wonderful time on this journey to our field. Our promise land.

I know what I feel now. I just realized it, right now, at 2:02 PM on September 8.

I feel found.

I feel like the last 7 years, I've been trying to figure out who I am to which person and tribe and season. A 20 something wife and mom, daughter, grand-daughter, sister, niece, cousin, friend, worship leader, mentor, mentee, musician, teacher, writer. And then this last year nearly took me out of the game. I went through so many drastic life changes at once, some beautiful and others devastating, that I just about lost myself.

Looking back, I think it was the height of the contrast between the beauty and devastation that confused my heart and mind and soul. One second I felt overwhelming joy and the next, overwhelming grief. One second fulfillment and the next, excruciating pain.

I didn't know whether it was okay to laugh or if it was okay to cry, because nothing left enough space for reckoning.

I was in the darkest crack of the valley, suffocating with the tension between trusting God and cursing at Him. I felt like I had one foot in the light and one in the dark, knowing full well which was right. But something wasn't letting me fully release it all to Him. My humanness maybe?

But you found me. Over and over and over again. Some days it took you a little longer and some days you knew right where I was. But every single time, you found me.

And all the while, dropping seedlings to our forest wherever you went.

There's something extremely potent about the manifestation of a covenant. A vow coming to life. A promise being kept.

We, as well meaning individuals, can promise people things all day long with every intention of fulfilling them. But when the time comes to cash in on that vow, we're never really ready. There never seems to be an overflow in the commitment bank. It's work. It's a muster. It's a grunt.

But when it pulls through, it's the most beautiful thing the world can experience.

"For wives, this means submit to your husbands as to the Lord. For a husband is the head of his wife as Christ is the head of the church. He is the Savior of his body, the church. As the church submits to Christ, so you wives should submit to your husbands in everything.

For husbands, this means love your wives, just as Christ loved the church. He gave up his life for her to make her holy and clean, washed by the cleansing of God’s word. He did this to present her to himself as a glorious church without a spot or wrinkle or any other blemish. Instead, she will be holy and without fault. In the same way, husbands ought to love their wives as they love their own bodies. For a man who loves his wife actually shows love for himself. No one hates his own body but feeds and cares for it, just as Christ cares for the church. And we are members of his body.

As the Scriptures say, 'A man leaves his father and mother and is joined to his wife, and the two are united into one.' This is a great mystery, but it is an illustration of the way Christ and the church are one. So again I say, each man must love his wife as he loves himself, and the wife must respect her husband." (Ephesians 5)

Thank you for loving me.Thank you for fighting on my behalf.Thank you for tilling the ground of our forest even harder than I could. Thank you for living the Gospel by digging through the rubble, meeting me on the floor, and carrying me home.

You and your sister are so very similar, but so very distinct. You both have a crooked smile like your Daddy, but your eyes are hazel and light up with a very specific twinkle.

You are my cuddly girl. You snuggle into my chest and it melts me every time.

You're starting to try to talk and keep up with your sister's ever growing vocabulary, but your voice is cute and crackly.

You wiggle around the floor, not quite scooching but definitely rearing up for it.

You're just about to sit up on your own, which means you can start eating some super disgusting pureed veggies. But maybe you eating them will get your sister to eat them. How's that for leading up? ;)

You sleep like a champ. Dad will say otherwise, but that's just cuz he needs more than the usual human. You'll figure it out.

You only cry when something's wrong and you make everyone smile all the time. No one has ever been able to stay grumpy when you are in the room.

I peed on a stick over a year ago and couldn't imagine what life would be like with you.But now, you're here and growing, I can't imagine what it'd be like without you.

When Bravery was not even a week old, I had a moment where I had to pee so bad, but I couldn't take her off the boob and Symphony was crying in the bathroom because she needed someone to wipe her booty.

In what felt like the slowest of motions, I lowered my body to the bathroom floor and hung my head in my free hand and just sobbed.

I was tired.I was hungry.I was stinky.I was achy.I was foggy.And I had to pee so bad.

This is my new life, I cried out. I can't even get past an 8 hour shift on my own.

In my head, that was going to be my forever. I love my girls, I'd do ANYTHING for them. But in that moment, I was terrified at how terrible I was at this whole mother-of-two thing.

I guess I figured once you have a kid, you're in. Like you already know how to do the parent thing and each kid is just adding a couple more weights to the end of your bench press. It makes you stronger.

And it does. But like lifting weights or running a marathon, mastering an instrument or becoming a writer, it takes practice. We have to ease into it. Although less ease and more grunting, crying-worthy hard work. #canigetanamen

I knew parenting had levels, but I just assumed they came with the ages of the kids, not the quantity of them as well.

I get it now though. More than ever, I don't know what I'm doing and that's okay.

It's okay to not know.

It's okay to figure it out. It's okay to take the days moment by moment, hour by hour, nap by nap.

It's okay to let your infant fuss and your toddler whine while you take a hot second to pee. It's not selfish. It's lifting a little more weight.

This is more for me than it is for you. I'm reminding my future self that we've been here and she will be okay. But if this happens to be for you too, girl, we got this.

You're a warrior. You're a mom. You're literally altering the world by raising some kick butt adults. Let's not lose sight of that, just because we feel like failures for a couple moments.

It's going to be okay. We will get stronger.

"He tends his flock like a shepherd. He gathers the lambs in his arms and carries them close to his heart; he gently leads those that have young."

Hard seasons always feel like they're never going to end. It feels like you're just about to get back up on your feet, out of your puddle of sorrow and tears, and something else trips you down. Will we ever breathe again? Will we be able to laugh at absolutely nothing? Will food taste vibrant again or will music be sweet again?

I don't have an answer for you. But I know the One who does. And this is what He says:

Finally, be strong in the Lord and in his mighty power. Put on the full armor of God, so that you can take your stand against the devil’s schemes. For our struggle is not against flesh and blood, but against the rulers, against the authorities, against the powers of this dark world and against the spiritual forces of evil in the heavenly realms. Therefore put on the full armor of God, so that when the day of evil comes, you may be able to stand your ground, and after you have done everything, to stand. | Ephesians 6:10-13

Those who hope in the LORD will renew their strength. They will soar on wings like eagles; they will run and not grow weary, they will walk and not be faint. | Isaiah 40:31

He gives strength to the weary and increases the power of the weak. | Isaiah 40:29

But he said to me, “My grace is sufficient for you, for my power is made perfect in weakness.” Therefore I will boast all the more gladly about my weaknesses, so that Christ’s power may rest on me. That is why, for Christ’s sake, I delight in weaknesses, in insults, in hardships, in persecutions, in difficulties. For when I am weak, then I am strong. 2 Corinthians 12:9-10

God is our refuge and strength, an ever-present help in trouble.| Psalm 46:1

But you, LORD, do not be far from me. You are my strength; come quickly to help me. | Psalm 22:19

Surely God is my salvation; I will trust and not be afraid. The LORD, the LORD himself, is my strength and my defense ; he has become my salvation. | Isaiah 12:2

The Sovereign LORD is my strength; he makes my feet like the feet of a deer, he enables me to tread on the heights. | Habakkuk 3:19

The name of the LORD is a fortified tower; the righteous run to it and are safe. | Proverbs 18:10

I've been trying to find "life hacks" for staying healthy and still keeping all my bad habits...

You think I'm kidding. Well, I'm not, but once I got past the disillusionment, I started getting creative with what to sacrifice and what to hold onto for dear life.

Coffee was something I realized I was getting a crap ton of calories from. And not that good kind. I tried to write it off as my portion of legumes... #thinkaboutit

But it wasn't the actual coffee that was killing me; it was the dairy. Ever since revisiting some bummer news about my health, I've been researching the heck out of what I should and shouldn't eat; while also Pinterest-ing how I can use sprinkle donuts and beignets because I have a three year old

I'm not a quit cold turkey girl. I know this about myself and I've accepted it. For now. So I found a cheater way to get more protein in my morning coffee ritual and I thought some of you'd wanna try it. :)

COFFEE & PROTEIN

Order this from your favorite local coffee shop:

- 3 Shots of espresso over ice in a large (venti) cup

Then add a full bottle of your favorite pre-mixed protein drink.My favorite is Vanilla Premier Protein from Sams Club.

This post is written in response to a scarred part of my life. I'm reposting it for my sweet friends who are battling to forgive. If you've experience sexual abuse and would like to chat, you can send me a message through Facebook or leave a comment below.

I use to shutter at the sight of your name. Something inside of my spirit would wilt, cower, turn away whenever I encountered anything or anyone that reminded me of you.

I would lay awake at night, wondering if I was safe. If my mother and brother and sister were safe. Reading that sentence back now it seems silly really. But back then, you were my worst nightmare.

But not for the reason you might think.

I wasn't afraid of you because I thought you were a monster, though most would say otherwise. And it wasn’t because I thought you were dangerous or lethal, though some might argue you were.

I was afraid of you because of what you weren’t. You weren’t who you said you were. You weren’t the safe place you were supposed to be. I was afraid because your failure damaged that sacred place in me.

I was afraid of you because you were the hand behind the gaping wound I have in one of the deepest parts of my soul. My being. I would never be the same because of you.

Or so I thought. For a long time. As a child I thought I’d never recover. As a child, thinking juvenile thoughts with naive limitations, I thought I’d never be the same again. I was damaged. And it was you that damaged me.

But God.

He is bigger.

He is bigger than you and me and them.

He shattered the glass ceiling on healing. He very gently took down the brick walls I had built around redemption. He taught me strength and courage through the vulnerability and humility of my mother. He loved me, like a Father should, through the hands and wisdom and heart of my father. And He showed me the magnetic and supernatural of forgiveness through my husband.

Forgiveness. A power unmatched by any court or weapon or earthly force.

There's something I've only confessed to a few close people in my tribe. It's something that's haunted me for years. Something that is very real and yet doesn't have to be. Something that I've been so afraid of, I've psyched myself self into a tizzy on multiple occasions.

Geez Jules, what is it? You might ask.

It's the 7-Year-Itch.

Tyson and I have been married long enough to start to see some of the relationships around us break because of life-long brokenness, affairs, or some just straight apathy.

But just like a 5th grader isn't contemplating their college choices, I wasn't thinking through the nooks and crannies of bad marriages and divorce as a newly wed.

The only thought I had about betrayal and complacency was, "That's not us." #insertpridehere

But, I began to ask myself at about the 3-Year mark, isn't that what everyone says?

Does anyone get married to get divorced?

Every year, usually around October, Ty and I have a "Mo Code" conversation. This involves Margaritas or Espresso and a dialogue about the mission of our home and whether or not we feel we're aligning with God's callings on our lives. The first three of those were easiest peasiest, because, well, it was just the two of us and we spent most of the day in each other's presence. It was one of the plus sides to doing life and ministry together.

Our fourth year, we had Symphony. Home girl came on our anniversary and to be honest, that explains everything about her. lol. We were in the bliss phase of parenting and still together nearly everyday.

Then year six creeped up on us and we moved into our new house, were settling into our new jobs, celebrated Sym's birthday, and a quick anniversary dinner, and found out we were pregnant (!) all in one weekend. It was cray.

But as the year began to find its rhythm, I started to panic. This is it. This is the phase where people peeter out. I began mistaking consistency for complacency. Contentment for convenience. Fulfillment for indifference.

I know my thinking was irrational, but is it really? Every day has become a war against emotions that shivered one way and my heart that fought for another.

And as any "good Christian girl" would, I fought most of this battle within the deceptive confines of my own mind.

We're too comfortable. That's not a bad thing Jules. It's called love. Is he really okay with my post-baby body? Of course! You're the mother of his children. It's called love.What if he's bored? If he was bored, you wouldn't laugh together every single day. It's called love.I think he thinks I'm crazy. Of course he does, because you are a little and he loves it. He's still here. Does he ever think he made a mistake? Nope. He's told you that already and he's still here.We don't have as much romance as we use to. THAT'S BECAUSE YOU JUST HAD A BABY. He's still here. It's called love.

You see the paranoia? The crazy cycle one could spin herself into left alone to her own devices?

That's why I'm writing to you today. There is someone out there, some girl, or maybe even a guy, who is having this same thought process and you're freaking yourself out. Maybe not the same scenarios or fears, but the back and forth, truth versus lie ping pong game in your mind.

I wish I the next sentence was a 10-Quick-Ways-to-Calm-Your-Fears-And-Never-Have-Them-Again bullet pointed list. But it's not.

The solution, I've found, to our seesaw is confession.

"For when I kept silent, my bones wasted away through my groaning all day long. For day and night your hand was heavy upon me; my strength was dried up as by the heat of summer." -Psalm 32:3-4

For me, the doubt and fear and anxiety, it wasn't wholesome. It wasn't coming from a place of healing and discernment. It was my gut's reaction to brokenness. I wanted to blame something, someone, MY ONE, for my reaction to someone else's terrible decisions. And while I did, my bones, literally, my body was wasting away. It was breaking down.

So I had to confess.

I'm afraid. I don't trust you, I told him. I don't trust that God gave me a good man. I'm scared of being betrayed. I'm scared that will be us.

And when I did, that fear lost its power. When you turn on the light, the darkness has no place to go.

Sure, you see the bugs and dust and might need to grab some Lysol, but there's nothing there that Jesus didn't already go to the cross for.

We are not above the rest. We are not immune to failure, and God forbid we ever believe we are. But I've never been more thankful for a husband who sets a table of grace for me everyday. And I've never been more inspired to do the same for him.

Confession and Grace: it's called love. It's been the answer for healing and purpose since the beginning.

“Therefore confess your sins to each other and pray for each other so that you may be healed. The prayer of a righteous man is powerful and effective.” - James 5:16

Today, June 27, 2016, marks 7 years completed on the Mo Marriage, and I have a sneaky feeling, it's still, just the beginning.

Happy Anniversary Babe! I'd choose you all over again. Maybe with a little less drama this time ;) It was always you.

Unexpected things happen.

It's, ironically, to be expected that you can't predict or expect what will ebb and flow in and out of your life day in and day out.

Or in my current case, who.

A couple weeks ago, I got on a plane, headed home to say goodbye to a man, I am now realizing, I assumed would live forever.

My Papa had a passion made of fire for Jesus, and it's been irrefutable to nearly every person who's ever been near him. He literally has a Jesus sign outside his home, that has caused dozens of people, maybe even hundreds over the years, to slow down, pull over, cry, ask, or repent.

As he aged, he just became more surrendered and saturated in the Gospel, that even when his mind was wandering in the caverns of his subconscious, he was still telling people about Jesus.

His body was literally wasting away and his mind disappearing, but what naturally overflowed from him was grace. Love. Compassion.

People came to pray with him on his death bed and no sooner would they walk in before he was asking to pray over them.

But the capsule of his earthly life has come to a close, only to be awakened by the warmth of his Savior's face, beaming I'm sure, and singing the words, "Well done. My good and faithful servant. Welcome home."

On a Sunday. His favorite day of the week.

For four days, I sat by his bedside, reading his Bible, singing him songs, helping my grandma with whatever she needed.

For four days I watched my Papa lay there, unable to put a full string of words together. He looked so quiet and peaceful but you could tell he was always thinking.

One moment I'll never forget, we adjusted his pillow and he winced. "You ok papa?" I asked. He hummed. It was his way of acknowledging he could hear you but has no response.

"I love you," I chimed. He hummed again. And then the corner of his eyes started to mist."Papa are you crying?" He hummed a third time."What's wrong?" I asked, knowing he probably wouldn't tell me. His tears were now forming a tiny puddle in the crease of his eye lids. "You're okay Papa. You're ok," I said with no idea if it was true or not. Was he in pain? Was he scared? Was he happy and being sentimental?

The house was bustling with family and lunch was ready but I didn't want to leave. Something inside me started quivering and I did the only thing I know how to do in moments of loss. I sang.

"Jesus, Jesus, Jesus there's just something about that name. Master, Savior Jesus like a fragrance after the rain..."

My grandpa relied on no one more than he relied on Jesus. Despite his short comings, everyone knew he knew he needed Jesus. Everyone knew their relationship was sweet and intimate.

I continued, "Jesus, Jesus, Jesus let all heaven and earth proclaim," as his tears finally fell, he hummed a fourth time. Only this time his lips pursed, and he held it out to let me know he was singing with me. After all, he was the one who taught me.

"Kings and kingdoms, will all pass away..."

In his mind, that has been renewed everyday for nearly 80 years, he was singing with me.

"But there's something about that Name."

After we finished singing the same song for about 15 minutes, I caressed his face and said it again, "See Papa, you're okay. Jesus is here. You're okay."

"Yea," he moaned. "Yea."

And while this is all unexpected for me, I've never felt more close to heaven than I do now.

I've never felt more gratitude for eternity than I do right now.

I'm so thankful he taught me, this isn't the end. It's just a quick pause.

I love you Papa, and when it's my turn to finish my race into eternity, second to my Savior's hug, I'll be expecting that familiar whistle of yours to welcome me home.

"For God so loved the world, that He gave His only begotten Son, that whosoever believes in Him shall not perish but have ever lasting life." | John 3:16

I don't worship because I have to.I worship because I have to.

My life has been liberated and redirected, refined and redeemed, on so many levels by something outside of myself and my own choices and decisions. Sometimes people ask how I got to where I am in life, with my marriage or as a worship leader, and my only response will ever be this:

It's Jesus. It's always been Jesus.

Sure I've read books and studied for nearly a decade on some of these things. I've done counseling and training and sought advice and perspective from both professionals and people I trust.

But at the end of the day, it's Jesus' life, His word, His example, His intimate relationship with me, that pushes me on day after day.

Some people say they don't know where they'd be without Him, well I do. And it makes me shudder at the thought.